


fall in love with the moon (and everything beautiful)

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Bookstores, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Like the lightest, M/M, No Smut, check author's note for more details basically, felt like i should add so no one gets disappointed, idk how to tag, louis is a dumbass, that's the whole plot, the opening line IS misleading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 10:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: “It’s adorable that you think you can compromise with me on this,” Louis says. He places his hands on his hips and tries his best to look intimidating. “But I am not budging on this. Every book pun you say will result in one quarter in the jar.”“What jar?” Harry asks. He furrows his eyebrows together.Louis rolls his eyes. “Like a swear jar, but now I’m going to make yours ‘Harry’s dumbass pun jar.’ Maybe I’ll have you put a quarter in for every pun you say, not just the ones about books. Niall was right - you tell the worst jokes.”“One time Niall told me I’d never said a funny joke in my life,” Harry says casually.“Funny. He told me that too.”or, louis and harry work in a bookstore together and harry tells dumb jokes and they fall in love





	fall in love with the moon (and everything beautiful)

**Author's Note:**

> the anxiety mentioned in the tags is like No Big Deal, just mentioned a few times, not a huge plot point! just wanted to tag it just in case! feel free to [message me](http://microlouis.tumblr.com/) if you're concerned!

"Mate, you need to get laid, is all I'm saying," Zayn says, as if this is a fact that Louis isn’t already aware of. He’s incredibly aware of it, actually. He  _ does _ need to get laid. 

"I think that’s one of the biggest clichés ever in life and I thought you were better than that," Louis huffs, turning up his nose at Zayn and flipping the page in his book as loudly as he can. He's rereading  _ Simon vs. The Homosapien Agenda  _ now that the movie’s finally come out. “Just because I snap at you does not mean I, and to quote you, ‘need my back blown out.’”

"You work in a bookshop, and you're just waiting around for Prince Charming to wander in," Zayn says, gently grabbing the book from Louis' hands and shutting it with a dull thud. Louis can’t help but notice the way he subtly slides a bookmark in, always so thoughtful. It’s one of his best qualities. "You're a living cliché. Now get to work, or I'm not paying you."

"If you don't pay me, I won't pay my share of rent," Louis reminds him and grabs a stack of books he has to shove somewhere on the shelves. He never puts them in the correct spot, just to be a menace to all the other workers and patrons, and instead usually shoves as many as will fit in the erotica section. There’s been plenty of parents angrily complaining to Zayn, but Zayn’s never brought it up to him so he keeps on doing it.

"Louis, even if I did pay you, you wouldn't be paying your share of rent. I think I cover you at least every other month," Zayn says pointedly, grabbing Louis' shoulders as he tries to head to the "adult novels" section and instead turns him in the direction of the shelf where they're actually meant to be. "Why did I even hire you?"

"Because otherwise I was going to eat all your food, gain a lot of weight, and live on your couch," Louis says matter of factly, and it's true. Louis and Zayn had been childhood best friends, separated when uni classes had been a bit too much. But they had been reunited when Louis was dumped and needed a shoulder to cry on and place to stay (another cliché in his life, Zayn likes to remind him). Zayn was there with an apartment, food, and a job. He had been lucky to take over the store once the old owner had retired, which is definitely the only reason Louis has the job. 

"Do you think I'll have to work here forever?" Louis asks, the mood of the conversation suddenly taking a more serious turn.

Zayn's face softens, his usually mysterious expression easing into a more comforting one. "No, Lou, you'll find your calling. You'll go back to uni and finish your last year, and then you'll find out what you really want to do with your life. You're just a little lost right now. Luckily, you have me to guide you."

Louis smiles, if a little wobbly, and begins stacking the books, even going as far as to put them in the proper sections they belong in. It’s not as fun, but the store does look cleaner when everything’s where it should be. "Thanks, Zayn. I love you."

Zayn grins back and takes half of the stack, walking to another part of the store, calling back over his shoulders, "I love you too! But if you ever tell anyone that, I'll be forced to kill you.”

"Hello?" a voice calls out from the front. It occurs to Louis that no one's out there managing the front desk and their security has been acting up, so someone could literally get away with stealing from the store. "I'm here looking for a job?"

"Hey, mate," Louis hears Zayn greet the newcomer in an overly cheerful customer service voice. Louis grimaces at the fact that he'll have to act like a normal person and steps back from behind the shelf, where he's able to see to the front of the store. What he sees there, the most beautiful man he’s ever seen probably, knocks him off balance (literally) and he tips over sideways. He catches himself on a display sporting all the  _ Hunger Games _ books and movies, if not a few years too late.

"Louis?" Zayn calls, suddenly coming into Louis' peripheral vision. He’s still clutching the edge of the table in an attempt to regain balance. 

"Stay away!" Louis says, groaning loudly in shame. "Only my pride was hurt. It'll mend eventually."

Hopefully.

Once again, he feels vaguely like he’s living in some romantic comedy full of clichés. Only it’s a lot less romance and too much comedy for his liking. Someone up above is definitely having too much fun, making a fool of him and laughing about it.

"Stop being so dramatic and come greet Harry," Zayn says, no ounce of sympathy in his voice.

"I'm not exactly in the mood," Louis says defiantly, pushing himself off the table and straightening up. 

"Louis," Zayn says sternly, and Louis knows not to argue once he takes on that tone. He puts up with a lot of Louis’ shit, but he can always tell when Zayn doesn’t want to deal with anymore.

"Fine," Louis sighs. He attempts to fix his hair, wiping it away from his forehead as he follows Zayn the rest of the way to the front of the store. The man is still standing there, feet pointed towards each other and giving off nervous vibes. Even as uncomfortable as he appears, Louis finds him just as off-balancing to look at. Trying to keep his voice from shaking or sounding too overexcited, he says, “Hi Harry, I’m Louis.”

"Nice to meet you," Harry says, holding out his large hand for Louis to shake. He’s reluctant to do so because he’s always had a thing for hands and Harry’s are  _ huge _ . Louis shakes his hand anyway and tries not to admire the way Harry’s fingers wrap around his entire wrist and how warm his skin is. (He fails). 

"Nice to meet you as well," Louis says as politely as he can, all the while his brain is short circuiting. 

"You're probably going to be the one who works the most with him," Zayn explains. "I'm just about to interview him. This is the guy that Niall recommended, so the interview’s more of a formality if anything. I’d say it’s more of an orientation."

"I thought you were a loser," Louis blurts out, before he's able to stop himself. He's had this problem his entire life, where his foot gets stuck in his mouth and he gets himself into uncomfortable situations. It generally turns people off of him. His mom just said that his mouth moves faster than his brain and that he'd grow out of it eventually. Obviously,  twenty-five years hasn’t been enough to grow out of it. “Just, uh. The way Niall described you. You seemed kind of...you know what? I’ll stop talking.”

Niall had described his old college roommate, Harry, as dorky. A total nerd. Studious. One of the phrases that sticks out to Louis the most, one Niall had said when they were all drunk on his couch one night, was, “Never told a good joke before in his life.”

"Louis!" Zayn hisses, looking about .3 seconds away from slapping him.

"No, it's fine," Harry laughs, a grumbling sound that crashes through Louis' body and leaves behind only destruction. "I used to be. I guess not so much anymore because anyone Niall tells about me is always shocked to actually meet me." He pauses for a second, lips pursed before he continues, “Or maybe I am loser. Don’t be judging a book by its cover, and all that.”

Louis nods, too embarrassed and angry at Harry’s blatant pun to reply. It’s probably better if he limits his talking as much as possible.

"I guess we'll get to that interview, then. Also, if you'd like to request to be on the opposite schedule of Louis, I completely understand.." Zayn shoots him a glare. He refuses to make eye contact.

Harry giggles and Louis scoffs.

"You think he's kidding," Louis says, "but he's actually not. He really thinks you won't like me so much you won't be able to work with me. How preposterous."

"I doubt you even know what that means," Zayn says, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him away to small section of tables and chairs in the back of the store. 

"I used it correctly, didn't I!" 

 

Harry Styles singing Ariana Grande at the top of his lungs is not what Louis expects to see (or hear) when he walks into work on a Monday morning. He’d woken up late with barely enough time to get ready, and he’s sort of regretting it now. If he’d known Harry was going to be there - if Zayn had  _ given him a warning _ \- he would have put more effort into his appearance.

"I take it you got the job?" Louis says, in lieu of hello as he messes self-consciously with the pieces of hair he couldn’t get to lay quite right before he left. 

"Oh yeah," Harry says, not even embarrassed at having been caught singing  _ Dangerous Woman _ . Not that he’s a bad singer or anything, from what Louis could hear, so there’s not much to get embarrassed over. "Zayn says that you're not to scare me away and to quit putting Fifty Shades of Grey in the children's picture book section."

Louis nods as he throws his bag over the counter. "Monday is a slow day, so we pretty much can do whatever we want."

"Sounds good," Harry says, straightening up a stack of books that were less than a millimeter out of line.

"You don't actually have to do anything," Louis says, wondering if Harry heard him the first time.

Harry looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. "I don't want to get fired on my first day."

Louis shrugs his shoulders and hops on the counter, reaching underneath of it for the book he left there. He’d finished  _ Simon vs. The Homosapien Agenda _ and had started on finally reading the sequel. As he opens it he says, "Suit yourself, mate."

"Are you seriously going to leave me to do all the work myself, especially on my first day?" Harry asks in disbelief.

Louis looks up from the pages and quirks an eyebrow. "Like I said, Mondays are slow. We could close the store, and Zayn would probably think it's just a normal Monday."

"Oh," is all Harry says as he sets down the stack of books he's holding in his overly-large giant hands.

"Care to join me?" Louis asks. He scoots to one end of the counter, patting the space next to him. 

Harry looks hesitant, before apparently throwing caution out the window and nodding. “But if we get in trouble, you’re taking the fall. I’ve been, like, hypnotized by your ocean eyes or something.”

"That’s the story and we’re sticking to it,” Louis says jokingly. He goes back to reading his book, feeling the heat of Harry’s thigh pressed against his. Harry picks up one of the books off the stack and opens it. The crack of the spine sends a warm feeling washing over Louis’ body. That combined with having Harry in such close proximity, he’s finding it a little dizzying.

He allows himself to get lost in the moment of reading a good book tucked in close to a beautiful man.

 

"Aren't you two cute?" Zayn says, standing next to the counter with his arms crossed, smirk etched onto his face. "I should take a picture and hang it on the wall. I’ll make sure to get ‘world’s worst employees’ written on the plaque."

"What time is it?" Harry asks, jolting upright and almost succeeding in knocking Louis off of the counter. He would have fallen, if Harry hadn’t placed a steadying hand against Louis’ waist, spreading his fingers wide and gripping tightly.

They must have fallen asleep at some point. Most likely when they had shifted positions, Harry leaning against the wall and Louis leaning against his chest. That’s about when he’d given up reading, too, just enjoying the feeling of Harry’s arms wrapped around him. He’d been too distracted to read.

"Noon," Zayn answers, not even checking his watch. "I came to let Harry know that he's off work now."

Harry rubs at his eye adorably and then frowns at Louis, who's blocking the way. Louis’ still seated in between his legs, head rested on Harry’s chest. Although Harry’s trying to get up, he still reaches out and scratches at Louis’ scalp. He’s not entirely sure he doesn’t start purring at the sensation.

"Lou," Zayn says. "You need to get up so Harry can go home."

"I don't want Harry to go home," Louis complains. "He's good at cuddling and so warm I don't even need a blanket."

Zayn sighs and grips Louis' arm firmly and then tugs. Louis stumbles from the counter and barely manages to keep his balance. He shoots Zayn the dirtiest look he can manage.

"Your shift ended too,” Zayn says. 

Louis perks up at that. "Well then, why didn't you say so? Come on, dearest Harry."

Zayn doesn’t even bother with a response and instead walks away. There’s still no one in the store, even after they’ve been open for four hours. Louis isn’t quite sure how the place stays in business. He thinks it might actually be magic.

"Where am I coming?" Harry asks, confusion evident on his face. He still follows Louis to the front door, inches from stepping on Louis’ heels, so he’s obviously not too concerned about where he’s being led. 

"You're going to take me out to lunch because we haven't gotten a chance to talk and I don't think I've properly scared you yet." He throws Harry his warmest smile and pushes out the door. The bell dings overhead as they exit onto the sidewalk. The sky’s not cleared up while they were in there, still overcast and threatening rain. 

"See you tomorrow, Zayn!" Harry yells before the door closes between them. 

"Harry, you're a fantastic cuddler, how many people have told you that?" Louis asks as they start down the sidewalk and through the crowds of people. Louis grabs a hold of Harry's hand, and it’s only halfway because crowds make him nervous.

"Please don't let go of me," Louis says in a whisper. He shuffles closer as he tries to avoid being bumped into.

Harry squeezes their joined hands and turns down a street that Louis isn’t too familiar with. It's only a couple of blocks before they reach where Harry’s taking them, but Louis’ not even paying attention to where they’re going. He’s more focused on the people brushing past him and trying desperately to not feel so anxious about being in the midst of them.

"All right?" Harry asks softly, once they walk through the door. Louis doesn’t catch the name on the sign before they walk in, but the inside is practically empty. There’s a few patrons seated at tables, sipping on coffee and snacking on sandwiches. None of them look up when they walk through, something Louis’ grateful for.

Louis nods. He can feel his shoulders sagging as the anxiety seeps out of them. "I just really do not like crowds. I’ve got a little bit of social anxiety," he admits. Something about Harry’s presence makes him feel like he’s trustworthy, like he’s not going to judge Louis for admitting that.

"Well, now we're inside, and we can enjoy a nice lunch together in this small coffee shop," Harry says. "Away from the crowds. Sound good to you?"

Louis smiles gratefully and removes his hand from Harry's. "That sounds absolutely perfect to me."

"Great, what would you like?" Harry asks, politely steering Louis to one of the many empty tables and forcing him into one of the chairs. He remains standing as he waits for Louis’ answer, hands adorably perched on his hips.

"Just a coffee, black, please," Louis says, smiling up Harry and then pulling out his phone and checking Twitter while Harry goes to order their drinks. Louis thinks he might be a little bit in love, even though he hasn't even known Harry for a full day, once all their time spent together is added up. He’s known him like, five hours. He’s starting to wonder when his life became less comedy and more romance.

When Harry comes back, he holds two coffees in his hands, each with a wrapped cookie set on top of the lid.

"I hope you like chocolate chip, because that's the only kind I grabbed," Harry says, handing Louis his coffee and one of the soft cookies. Louis’ heart soars, watching as Harry trips over his own feet in his attempt to sit down. He all but tumbles into his chair and Louis just feels fondfond _ fond _ .

"It's my favorite, thank you," Louis says. He smiles and unwraps the cookie to take a bite out of it, suppressing a moan of pleasure. When he looks up, crumbs at the corners of his lips, Harry is just smiling at him, his dimples set deep into his cheeks.

"Would it be very cliché of me to ask you to tell me about yourself?" Harry asks. He finally breaks eye contact with Louis and unwraps his own cookie. Louis watches as he takes a bite, extending his tongue first, and he can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous Harry looks.

"Mate, my life is a living cliché," Louis says, still laughing.

 

"I had a great time," Harry says, hands tucked into his pockets.

"If you say you'd like to do it again sometime, I'm never speaking to you again," Louis threatens, voice light and airy with a happiness he hasn't felt for quite some time now. It had been a good day, overall.

Harry throws his head back and laughs, carefree and joyous and a sound that Louis wants to bottle and sell to the world, but also maybe wants to keep to himself too. Harry's laughter is infectious and soon enough Louis joins in, his own laugh higher in pitch and bell-like, while Harry's is rumbly and comforting, washing over his body like a familiar hug.

"But that would be the truth," Harry says earnestly, stopping at Louis' apartment building and staring at the smaller boy with interested, wide eyes. "I really would like to do it again sometime. You're just...amazing."

"Thanks," Louis says, shifting his eyes to his feet as a blush creeps up his face. "I appreciate that. Now, I’ll see you at work?”

Harry reaches out and brushes his fingertips against Louis’ cheek. The touch has the hair on Louis’ arms raising, goosebumps finding their way across his skin. Harry’s got a determined look in his eyes, biting the inside of his lips as he leans forward.

Louis stops him by placing a hand on Harry’s chest, feeling the muscles hidden underneath the shirt. He would love nothing more than to kiss Harry, feel his soft lips and figure out what kind of noises he’s capable of making, but Louis can’t.

It hadn’t been too long ago that he’d let a pretty boy with full lips and bright eyes waltz into his life and then waltz right back out, effectively breaking his heart in the process. It hadn’t been long enough for Louis to forget the feeling of falling in love and the feeling of heartbreak that comes with it.

“What kind of boy do you take me for?” Louis teases, attempting to keep his voice light. Flirting with Harry is safe enough territory. It’s what comes after harmless flirting that scares Louis the most. “I didn’t even know this was a date. You’re going to have to try way harder than that to get a kiss out of me, Harry.”

Harry rocks back on his heels and Louis’ hand drops between them, falling from Harry’s chest. He’s the picture of innocence, eyes wide and unassuming. Finally, the side of his mouth quirks into a smile and there’s something more dangerous in his eyes. And by dangerous, Louis really means to his own health.

“I guess I’ll need to do better then,” Harry says, mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I guess you will.”

 

“Be honest with me - how many book puns is an acceptable amount of book puns?”

Louis looks at Harry from the corner of his eye. He pauses his movements, books still in his hand that need to be shelved. He counts to three before laying the books on their sides, promising himself he’ll come back to properly shelve them later, and turns to face Harry. 

“Zero is an acceptable amount,” Louis says. “Honestly.”

“I don’t like that answer.” Harry pouts his lower lip, and Louis would find it adorable (endearing, even) if he weren’t so distracted by the fullness of his lips. By the cherry red color they are. By how kissable they look. 

“Tough,” Louis says with a snort. 

Harry picks up the books Louis had set down, finding each of them their home within the shelves. It’s a good thing because they both know Louis would have never come back to do it. He would have left them there until Zayn got annoyed and did it himself, or someone bought them. In just the short amount of time Harry and Louis have worked together (five and a half shifts), Harry is always around to pick up his slack. Whether it be following him around and pulling books off the shelves when Louis’ placed them in the wrong section, or ringing guests out when anyone bothers to come into the store. 

He does it happily, too.

He never complains about picking up Louis’ work, about having to do the work of two people. He does it all with a fond smile and careful brushes of his hands against Louis’ skin. Sometimes if Louis is being a brat, he’ll scratch his fingers against Louis’ scalp and suddenly he’s not so much of a brat anymore. If Louis seems particularly anxious, Harry rubs a careful hand at the small of his back and he’ll forget what he was even so anxious about.

It’s kind of terrifying.

“What if I only said one book pun a day?”

“It’s adorable that you think you can compromise with me on this,” Louis says. He places his hands on his hips and tries his best to look intimidating. “But I am not budging on this. Every book pun you say will result in one quarter in the jar.”

“What jar?” Harry asks. He furrows his eyebrows together. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Like a swear jar, but now I’m going to make yours ‘Harry’s dumbass pun jar.’ Maybe I’ll have you put a quarter in for every pun you say, not just the ones about books. Niall was right - you tell the worst jokes.”

“One time Niall told me I’d never said a funny joke in my life,” Harry says casually.

“Funny. He told me that too.”

Harry hums, unoffended. Louis loves how easy it is to rile Harry up in other ways, have him tripping over his own feet and stuttering over his words, but he never seems to take offense to anything. At least, not anything serious. One day there’d been protesters outside about  _ something  _ political and that had set Harry off, but he always rolled with Louis and Zayn’s good-natured teasing.

The bell chiming from the front of the store snaps them both out of their daze. Louis doesn’t even look back at Harry before he’s running to the front of the store, Harry hot on his heels. There’s supposed to be someone at the front at all times, but they have a habit of sticking together even when it means leaving the front unattended. Somehow, that had evolved into the two of them racing whenever the bell rang, seeing who could reach the front first. They’d startled plenty of older ladies and Harry had fallen too many times to count.

“Welcome in!” Louis cries, if not a little hysterical. The man standing there doesn’t even appear bothered, shaking the water droplets from his umbrella and nodding his head in greeting. “Anything I can help you find today?”

“I’m actually looking for a specific book for class,” the man says. Louis gives him an appreciative once over, admiring his chocolate-colored eyes and short-cropped brown hair. Not much of his type, too many hard edges and a puppy dog look in his eyes, but he can appreciate. Besides, maybe he’ll get the man’s number for Zayn. He’s definitely Zayn’s type.

“What book?” Harry asks from Louis’ side, startling him. He’d forgotten that Harry had chased him up here. “I’ll be able to find it for you better than Lou can.”

Louis makes an affronted sound, mouth going slack. “I’ve been working here, like, seven months longer than you!”

“That literally means nothing,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. “Yesterday I watched you put Davy Jones’ biography in the fiction section.”

“He’s not a real person,” Louis protests. “Therefore, it doesn’t belong with the nonfiction books.”

“ _ He was real _ .”

The man clears his throat awkwardly, effectively cutting off whatever Louis was about to say next. He spins around again, plastering a fake smile to his face. 

“Sorry,” Louis says, blush creeping onto his cheeks. “What can we help you find?”

The next fifteen minutes finds Harry leading the man down one of the aisles in the nonfiction section. The man’s in search of a book about mountain climbing, something he needs for his geography class, but Louis hadn’t really cared enough to listen. When he’d started explaining the book, Louis had checked out (pun definitely  _ not _ intended) and let Harry deal with it. He’d gone and sat down on the counter at the register and tried to decide what book to read for the day. 

He’s just settled on  _ What If It’s Us _ , written by the same author as  _ Simon vs. the Homosapien Agenda _ , when they make it back up to the register. They’re chatting amicably, more evidence that Harry can charm the pants off of anyone. Louis pretends not to be jealous as he watches Harry squeezes the man’s bicep as they laugh at something or other.

He doesn’t have a right to be jealous, turning Harry down when he’d asked him on a real date. They still flirt, but Harry hasn’t asked him out after the rejection. It doesn’t seem like he’s hurt or embarrassed, but more like he’s respecting the fact that Louis said no. Which is such a Harry thing - to be turned down and actually  _ respect _ that.

“Will this be all?” Harry asks, coming around behind the counter so he can ring the man out. He places his hands on both of Louis’ hips and uses them to scoot him further down the counter and out of the way of the register. Louis pretends he doesn’t notice the muscles in Harry’s arms flexing. 

“Yeah, thank you so much for your help,” the man says gratefully. Louis fights an eye roll, unsure of what exactly the man’s said or done to piss him off so much. “Hopefully this book’s not too much a bore.”

“No problem, Liam,” Harry says. Oh, so his name’s  _ Liam _ . Louis hates it; it’s a stupid name. “I hear it’s a real cliff-hanger.”

Nobody says anything for thirty seconds, until Liam gives a polite chuckle. The air turns awkward as he accepts his bag. He says goodbye to both of them before all but running out of the store.

“Put a quarter in the jar, Styles,” Louis says, pointing to one of the many empty mason jars on display. “Pick one and put a quarter in it.”

“But-”

“ _ The jar. _ ”

 

“Okay, please explain this to me again. There’s just something that isn’t adding up here.”

Louis sighs heavily, collapsing onto the sofa and forcing his way in between Niall and Zayn. They scoot to make room for him, his head pillowed in Niall’s thighs and his feet sitting on Zayn’s lap. He’s currently explaining to them why it’s a bad idea to agree to go on a date with Harry, who hasn’t even asked again, and Zayn seems to be confused about  _ something _ . He’s not sure what there is to be confused about.

“I cannot date Harry because he will break my heart,” Louis says. It’s the third time he’s said that sentence tonight. “I did the math. It’s inevitable. He will break my heart.”

“You talk some shit, mate,” Niall says with a snort. “How’s that any way to live your life? Afraid that someone’s going to break your heart? So what, you’re just never going to fall in love again?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to fall in love,” Louis says defensively. “Just that I wasn’t going to date Harry. I’m very much in love with him. Unfortunately for both of us, we will never date. I’m going to settle for a nice guy who will never break my heart.”

“That is.” Zayn takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and mouthing as he counts to ten. Louis waits patiently, not too sure he wants to hear whatever it is he’s got to say. Zayn starts again, “That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life. One, your whole plan involves you settling and being miserable. Two, if you’re already in love with Harry you’re going to get your heart broken anyway, whether it’s because you don’t ever date or because you do. Might as well have fun with it and just date him. And three, what makes you so sure Harry is going to break your heart?”

“Good points, mate, cheers,” Niall says, lifting his beer into the air and taking a sip from it. “Louis, don’t be a fucking idiot.”

Louis snorts. “Eloquent.”

“No point in beating a dead horse,” Niall says with a shrug. “Either you’re going to date Harry or you’re not. Not my fault you’re an idiot.”

“I wish you were nice to me. Are you nice to anyone?” Louis asks, trying his best not to pout.

“Only nice to people who aren’t dumbasses,” he answers honestly.

“Okay, so it makes sense why you’re mean to Harry, but why are you mean to  _ me _ ?”

Niall just laughs and takes another sip of his beer and Louis tries not to be offended.

 

Louis goes into work the next day with Zayn’s words heavy on his mind. At the time, he had been so ready to brush them off and pretend like they didn’t make sense.

Unfortunately, when he’d gotten home the words weighed on him. They swirled around in his mind all night as he pondered the questions raised. Zayn made valid points, Louis couldn’t deny that. He  _ would _ be miserable if he settled for someone less than perfect for him. He’d be bored to death, dreading coming home night after night. So maybe he shouldn’t settle.

That didn’t mean he should suddenly date Harry.

And yes, he is in love with Harry. They’ve been working together all of two months and he’s head over heels for the boy. He’s caring, compassionate, empathetic, and everything Louis is looking for. They work well together, energies bouncing off one another. Louis never feels like he needs to explain himself, never needs to apologize for being who he is. He knows he can be a lot. He’s always yelling about something, sometimes a little too sarcastic, and he comes with a bundle of social anxiety on top of it all. He isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but the fact that Harry doesn’t see these things as flaws should be more than enough for them to already have six kids.

Zayn’s final point is what Louis spends the most time thinking over. He’d fallen asleep replaying the words in his mind, had woken up to them playing like a broken record in his brain. As he walks into work, they’re still repeated over and over in his mind. 

Harry is dancing to music in his headphones, humming some of the words and swaying his hips as he dances around. There’s five minutes until they’ve got to unlock the doors and Harry is oblivious to the world as he sings some song Louis can’t decipher. Louis’ heart melts onto the floor, watching Harry’s eyes light up when he spots him come through the door. He doesn’t take off his earbuds, just starts belting the words louder, and Louis almost combusts on the spot.

Louis has his answer. He knows why he can’t date Harry, not yet.

He doesn’t feel like he deserves Harry. Like he’s not yet good enough for the man in front of him, who dances to songs most people would be embarrassed to admit they listen to. Not good enough for the man who doesn’t care that nobody else finds his jokes funny. Not good enough for the man who brings him coffee every opening shift they have together (and today is no exception, Louis can see it sitting on the counter by the register). Not good enough for Harry, who’s gone back to school to study social justice and psychology. Not good enough for  _ Harry _ .

He feels too broken to deserve someone like Harry Styles.

 

“Lou, are you feeling okay?” Harry asks, concern filtering into his words. He places the back of his hand against Louis’ forehead, feeling the temperature of the skin there. Apparently not finding anything conclusive, he feels his hand away and furrows his eyebrows. “Do you need anything?”

Louis shakes his head. “No. Thank you, Haz. It’s just been an off day, I think. I just need to go to bed and reset my system.”

“Makes you sound like a robot,” Harry says jokingly. His face turns serious again. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I make a killer chicken soup.”

“I’m not, like, sick,” Louis says. “I just feel...off.”

“And there’s nothing I can do to help?” Harry double-checks. “Do you want to do something tonight? I know you said you want to go to bed, but sometimes that can be worse. Want to go do something fun, maybe take your mind off of it?”

_ Yes _ , he thinks. His heart soars in his chest. He wants nothing more than to spend time with Harry outside of work, where they can’t be interrupted by customers and Harry doesn’t feel so obligated to clean and restock shelves. 

Which is how he finds himself tucked into a corner of Harry’s couch,  _ The Princess Bride _ playing on his television. They’d gone straight there after their shift ended and hadn’t moved in several hours. Louis thinks he might have become a permanent fixture in Harry’s couch.

Harry’s apartment is cute. He lives alone in a one bedroom across town, definitely on the pricier side of places to be living. The appliances are all modern, countertops granite, and floors newly done hardwood. Despite all of this, the place has the homiest feeling. He’s decorated the place with touches of himself - photographs lining free surfaces, warm colored paintings along the walls, and mismatched furniture that’s falling apart. Louis had all but sunk to the floor when he first sat down on the couch.

There’s absolutely nothing cohesive about Harry’s apartment - nothing goes together, technically, but it all  _ fits _ somehow. It’s all so overwhelmingly  _ Harry _ . Louis had felt the urge to cry when he had first walked in. It was almost like getting a warm hug from the man himself, with the way the atmosphere of the apartment wrapped around him.

Upon walking in, Harry had made him take off his shoes (not for cleanliness purposes, but for comfort, he’d explained), and had gone in search of his coziest sweatpants and fluffiest sweater. Louis had put them on in the bathroom, the walls painted a pastel yellow, and when he’d emerged, Harry had also changed into comfier looking clothing. It was weird, Louis had thought, seeing Harry outside of his normal attire of tight jeans and half undone blouses. Weird in a good way.

Now they haven’t said anything to each other in maybe an hour, save for laughter here and then at the movie. It’s not uncomfortable, Louis finds. It’s quite nice, to not feel the obligation to talk but to not be alone. He’s sure that if he were home, he’d be wallowing in his bed, alone in the dark. This is much better for him.

“Hey, Lou?” comes Harry’s voice from across the couch, soft as if he’s worried he might frighten Louis. He reaches out with his foot, poking at Louis’ thigh with sock-covered toes. 

“Yeah?” Louis replies, lolling his head sideways to peer at him. “What’s up?”

“What’s the worst thing about throwing a party in space?”

Louis sighs heavily, biting his lips to keep the smile from his face. He wants to burst into laughter and he hasn’t even heard the rest of the joke yet. It’s not even going to be a  _ good _ joke, he can already tell.

Harry doesn’t even wait for him to answer before saying, “You have to planet.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Louis deadpans. He manages to keep his face serious for all of five seconds before he’s breaking into laughter, throwing his head back against the couch and throwing his laughter towards the ceiling. “That was absolutely awful. Do you have a mason jar here? Put a quarter in it.”

“How does a coffee mug work?” Harry asks, pushing himself from the couch. He stretches his arms above his head, shirt riding up and exposing his lower stomach. He’s toned, Louis notes, but still manages to have some softness around his hip bones. Before he can admire any further, Harry is making his way into the kitchen and grabbing a mug.

“As long as it doesn’t have a horrible pun on it, then it works fine,” Louis says, reaching over for the remote so he can pause the movie. They’ve both seen it, but Louis wants to watch the way Harry’s eyes light up at his favorite parts. 

Harry completely stills as he comes into the room, coffee mug clutched in his hand. 

“Harry,” Louis says slowly. “Does your  _ coffee mug _ have a pun on it?”

“Survey says yes,” Harry replies, turning the mug in his hand so Louis can read the writing on it. It’s a solid white color, with bold lettering that says ‘I’m a whisk-taker.’ Next to the words is a cartoon whisk. 

“Throw another quarter in it just for the principle of it all.”

 

Time passes quickly with Harry in his life. They work every other morning on the same shift at the bookstore. They still don’t manage to get any actual work done, Harry having to follow Louis everywhere and clean up his messes, and this becomes some of Louis’ favorite time spent together. When he’s not wreaking havoc on the store, they’re usually cuddled together in a seat meant for one, each reading their own respective books. 

Once a week, Harry invites Louis back to his apartment and they have dinner together. Harry always cooks after the first time, when Louis had somehow managed to get pasta sauce on his ceiling. Louis always stays until the early morning light comes in through the windows, both of them exhausted and rubbing at their eyes but neither of them wanting to be the first to go to bed. 

Before Louis even realizes, he’s known Harry six months. He’d hoped at the beginning, when he’d first met Harry and had fallen in love, that spending more time with him and getting to know him better would reveal his flaws. Would make him less lovable and endearing. 

The opposite has proven true. 

Louis finds that all the things he finds as flaws in other people - Harry’s slow drawl, his clumsiness, the way he’s always right, his goddamn  _ puns _ \- only makes him want to smash his face into a pillow and scream until he runs out of air. In, like, the best way possible.

“You really need to get laid,” Zayn says one day when they’re changing the table at the front of the store. Louis wants to set it up with the most inappropriate books kept in the store (he thinks he’s found all of them in his time there), but Zayn thinks they should just set out the bestsellers. Since he’s the boss, he ends up winning, but Louis pouts the whole time. 

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” Louis says, placing the last of the books in his hand onto the table. He wonders how long it’ll take Zayn to notice he’s arranged all the books in the shape of a penis. 

“We have.” Zayn doesn’t seem to notice, or doesn’t care, about the penis on the table and heads back towards the counter. Louis follows and hops onto the counter, swinging his feet over the edge. “It’s still true. Get laid, mate.”

“I really don’t like the way you talk to me,” Louis says, but there’s no heat behind it. 

Harry’s pun jar is sitting on the counter next to him, half-full with quarters. Louis wonders what they should do with all the money. Maybe they’ll donate it to a charity. That seems like something Harry would want to do with the money.

“Tough.”

It’s silent for a heartbeat before they both attempt to talk at the same time. 

“You go first,” Louis says. “I was just going to say something dumb.”

Zayn snorts. “That’s not too different than usual, then. I was just going to ask if you’re okay.”

“Yeah, actually,” Louis says honestly. “My anxiety’s better than it ever has been. I was going to talk to you later - I think I’m gonna go back to school. Just some night classes, but. If I don’t go back within the next six months, all my previous credits are useless.”

“That shouldn’t be the reason you go back,” Zayn says, voice taking on a soft edge. He reserves this voice only for when Louis talks about school and anxiety. When he talks about the mental breakdown that sent him barreling back into Zayn’s life. “You should go back because you want to and because you feel healthy enough to do it.”

“I do,” Louis says earnestly. “I wouldn’t even try to go back if I didn’t think I could handle it. Honestly, I’ve never had a better support system, between you, Niall, and Harry. I’m completely over being cheated on and having my heartbroken. I have the urge to learn and go do something. Working in this bookstore isn’t my life’s calling.”

“You’re over being heartbroken?” Zayn asks, cocking an eyebrow. He leans back against the counter that Louis’ sitting on. “So you should date Harry.”

“I think you should stop telling me what to do.” Louis reaches out and flicks Zayn’s earlobe, revelling in the way he winces and rubs at the spot. He does it again, just to be an asshole. “Maybe Harry doesn’t want to date me.”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were dating anyway,” Zayn says. Which. Stops Louis in his tracks. His entire body goes still, feet kicking heavily as they land back against the counter. 

“What?” Louis asks, hysterical edge to his voice. 

“Don’t be overdramatic,” Zayn says with a roll of his eyes. “You’d know if you guys were dating. I’m just saying what it looks like to an outsider.”

“Well, don’t say it again,” Louis responds, attempting to sound threatening but failing miserably. He mostly sounds like a disgruntled child. “Even if it could be true. Which it’s not.”

“Hmm,” Zayn hums.

Louis really wants to slap him.

 

“You and Harry  _ are _ dating.”

“Niall, I will make you regret ever saying that,” Louis says, but it doesn’t hold any bite to it. He makes no attempt to move from his spot on the couch. His wine glass is empty, though, so maybe when he stands to fill it he’ll give Niall a slap around the head.

“I just, like, thought you were dating,” Niall says, puzzled expression on his face. “You guys have a standing date night every Wednesday. He brings you coffee every morning to work. You visit each other on your days off. You have a heart next to his contact name in your phone.”

“None of these things mean we’re dating.” Louis wants to sound nonchalant, but his voice shakes. He needs more wine to have this conversation. 

Zayn finally decides to add his two cents. “Well, all of that coupled with the fact that you guys are in love with each other. I’d say that means you’re basically dating. Technical terms aside, and all that.”

“Oh  _ god _ .” Louis finally sets his empty wine glass down. “So not only am I in love with Harry Styles, resident dumbass, I’m  _ dating _ him too?”

Niall and Zayn look at him like he’s grown two heads. 

“Could you two just talk about your feelings for once?” Niall asks snarkily. “Like real adults do.”

“Real adults,” Louis snorts. “Rich coming from someone who shotgunned a Four Loko last weekend just to see if he still could.”

“Not the same thing.”

Louis rubs at his temples with his fingers, massaging into the skin there and trying to ease away the incoming anxiety that comes with talking about relationships and love. 

“Fine!” he snaps. “I’ll talk to him.”

 

Louis doesn’t want to talk to him. He wants to pretend he never had that conversation with Niall and Zayn and let everything stay the same. He never gets what he wants, though.

Harry notices something is off within thirty minutes of their next shift together. He’s always been able to tell when Louis’ on edge, always knows exactly how to fix it. Louis’ never expected other people to deal with his problems for him, but knowing he’s not alone because of Harry (because Harry would do anything) makes it all that much easier. 

So Harry notices Louis is off, and of course, because he’s Harry, says something about it.

“Lou, are you okay?” he asks, hopping up onto the counter next to Louis. “You haven’t even tried to de-shelve anything today.”

Louis shrugs one of his shoulders, looking down at the ground as he kicks his feet. 

“Another off day?” Harry asks. Bless his heart, Louis thinks. If only that were it. “We don’t have to talk about it. I can run to that little coffee shop we love and buy you some cookies. Or croissants. Or anything you want.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” Louis blurts. “Don’t be nice to me.” 

He doesn’t mean to snap, but he can’t help it. Sometimes, when he’s struggling with fighting away anxiety, he can get irritated and moody, but he’s never gotten that way with Harry. At least, not until now. He wishes he could take it back immediately as he watches the way Harry’s expression falls from concerned to hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis says, words rushed. “I didn’t mean that. You should be nice to people. That’s, like, a good trait to have.”

Harry’s expression softens mildly. “Am I too overbearing?”

Louis’ heart  _ aches _ . To think that Harry is feeling self conscious about being a good person, about the way he takes care of Louis, makes his heart ache. Harry is the most wonderful person he’s ever met, and to think that he’s the reason he might be doubting himself, ever for a second, is almost too much to bear.

“No, baby, never,” Louis says. The pet name slips out easily, tumbling out past his lips before he can even stop it.

“Baby?” Harry says, and his facial expression changes from crestfallen to mischievous. “That’s a new one.”

“Sorry, I uh,” Louis stutters. “It slipped.”

“Stop apologizing,” Harry says. “I like it.”

 

“Are we dating, Harry?”

Harry pauses, coffee cup halfway to his lips, body going completely still. He almost looks like he’s encountered a wild animal and he’s afraid that any sudden movements might scare it away. 

“Uh, what?” 

“I know you heard me,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. He’s sitting in his usual spot on the counter, legs dangling as he kicks his feet. “I repeat: are we dating?”

“Kind of? Like we’re friends who go on dates that aren’t really dates,” Harry says. “Like, we’re not technically dating because we never talked about it and you never agreed to dating me, so it would be really uncool of me to date you without your permission.”

“Very true,” Louis says in agreement. “But we’re like, basically dating?”

“Uh, basically.”

“Can we call it that?” he asks tentatively. He’s testing out the waters.

Harry’s eyes widen. “You want to date me?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, we can, uh, slap the label on it,” Harry coughs. “We can go on dates, and stuff. I wouldn’t hate that.”

Louis hums in response, reaching out and stealing the coffee cup from Harry’s hand. He’d finished his own about thirty minutes ago, but Harry does everything slow, from speaking to drinking his coffee. He doesn’t even fight it as Louis takes the cup from his hands.

“Okay.” Louis takes a sip, wincing as he feels how cold it’s gone. He hands it back with a disgusted look on his face. “Let’s go on a real date.”

 

Nothing  _ changes _ . Absolutely nothing between him and Harry changes in anyway. They grab coffee together on their days off, have dinner at least once a week at Harry’s apartment, and banter the same way they always have during their shifts together. 

“Wait so you guys talked?” Niall asks one night, halfway through a bottle of wine and pink-cheeked. “And nothing changed? You guys didn’t have mind blowing sex or get married?”

“No, none of that,” Louis says with a sigh. “Like, things stayed  _ exactly _ the same. Or, I guess not exactly the same because we now call it all ‘dates.’ But we don’t act any differently. He hasn’t even tried to kiss me.”

“Call him right now,” Zayn says from the other couch, hanging upside down and holding one of the empty wine bottles. He’s slurring his words slightly, and normally Louis would be enjoying every second of Zayn losing his cool and having fun, but he’s got bigger problems. “Call him right now and see what he says.”

Louis pours himself another glass, effectively emptying yet another bottle. They’ve only got four bottles for the whole night, and now they’re finished with two and a half of them. 

“Should I?” he asks, pulling his phone from his pocket and waking up the screen. It comes to life, the only notification from Harry. It’s a simple text telling him to be safe tonight, and it makes Louis’ insides flutter. “I think I’m going to.”

Spurred on by the wine, he stands from the couch and heads into the kitchen for more privacy. He doesn’t put it past Niall and Zayn to make fun of him. 

Harry picks up on the fourth ring, voice deeper and slower than normal. “ _ Hello _ ?” 

“Oh shit, were you sleeping?” Louis slaps a hand over his mouth, already regretting ringing him. “I’ll let you go back to sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

“No, no,” Harry says in rush. “I was almost asleep, but I’d rather talk to you. Do you need something? Want me to pick you up from Niall’s?”

“Only if I can stay with you,” Louis says before he can stop himself. He really needs to work on his whole ‘brain-to-mouth’ filter. Clearly it’s broken. 

“Yes, you can stay with me,” Harry chuckles. “I’ll be there in twenty. I washed your favorite sweatpants of mine, so you can sleep in those if you want.”

True to his word, Harry is there in twenty minutes. He pulls up, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. As Louis climbs into the passenger seat, Harry yawns adorably and smiles softly before pulling away. Louis has never ridden in a car with Harry, surprisingly, and watching him drive is  _ hot _ . He wonders what it is about men driving that’s hot, and why it’s even hotter when Harry is the man doing it.

As if Louis isn’t struggling to control himself enough, with the way Harry only has one hand on the wheel and he looks extra cuddly in his sweatshirt, he reaches over and sets a hand on Louis’ thigh. It’s down by the knee, nowhere too scandalous, but he gives it a squeeze and Louis melts. The way Harry’s hand splays over his thigh, fingertips pressing in, is enough to have him combust. 

“Thank you for picking me up,” Louis says finally. He figures he’s been quiet for too long and it’s getting kind of weird now, especially with the way he’s trying to keep himself from staring too long at Harry. “I promise I’m not even, like, drunk and I’ll be on my best behavior when we get back to your place.”

Harry laughs, mostly to himself. “I believe you. Any particular reason you wanted to leave?”

“I actually didn’t, until I called you,” Louis says with a shrug. “But then you offered to come get me and I really wanted to cuddle.”

Harry doesn’t reply as he pulls into the parking garage of his apartment. He wordlessly unbuckles his seatbelt and removes his hand from Louis’ thigh, climbing out of the car. Louis follows quickly, going around to the driver side of the car. There, Harry is waiting patiently with his hand outstretched. Only fumbling a little, Louis takes Harry’s hand and follows him inside the building.

The sound of the door locking behind them as they enter the apartment seems all too loud. They’ve been silent since getting out of the car, and the lock clicking is out of place. Harry leads them down the hallway to his room. It’s decorated the same as the rest of the house, with mismatched furniture and a plethora of personal items adorning the walls. 

His drawers squeak as he digs through them for clothes for Louis to wear. He turns around, holding Louis’ favorite sweatpants in one and a t-shirt he’s never seen before in the other hand. As Louis takes the search, he realizes that it says “I’m not a victim; I’m a casual tee.” 

“ _ Harry _ .” 

He tries to play innocent, attempting to keep his face straight and even as he looks Louis in the eyes. “Yes?”

“Jar.”

Harry doesn’t even ask, grabbing a quarter from the top of his dresser and padding out into the living room where he keeps his at-home pun mug. It’s starting to fill up just as quickly as the one from the bookstore. Eventually Louis will remember to ask him what he plans on doing with the money.

He comes back into the room, plopping unceremoniously onto the bed. He pulls back the covers and slides underneath, smashing his face into the pillow.

“Come to bed,” he says, voice muffled into the sheets.

“Gotta change,” Louis says, and he hopes the fondness isn’t too obvious in his tone. “I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Good.” Within thirty seconds, Louis can hear his snores, still muffled by his face pressed into the pillowcase. He rolls his eyes and retreats to the bathroom, pulling on the clothes. Like everything that Louis steals from Harry, it’s too long on him and he keeps tripping over the bottom of the sweatpants. It only makes him feel cozier, though.

In comfier clothing now, Louis climbs into bed beside Harry and quickly falls asleep.

 

“So you guys slept together?”

“Niall, for the last time.” Louis takes a deep breath, collecting himself. “We fell asleep in the same bed. Clothed. No orgasms. No kissing. Some touching of the cuddling variety.”

He doesn’t seem satisfied with this answer, knocking over the pyramid of books that Louis had been attempting to stack. He now knows how Harry must feel when they work together. Not that Niall’s working; he’s only come in to get the details on how the previous night went.

“I really just wish you guys would, like, have sex or  _ something _ .” 

“You’re way too invested in my sex life,” Louis says. He picks up the fallen books from the ground, starting over on his book pyramid.

“I think so too,” Niall says in agreement. “But it’s only because you’ve made me this way. It feels like I’m watching a bad romance movie.”

Louis squawks. “My life would not be a  _ bad _ romance movie, you bastard.”

“Well, I still only give it two stars.”

Louis wants to reply, but he really has nothing to say back to that. Thankfully, the bell above the door is ringing and Zayn is coming in to relieve him from his shift. It’s been a while since they’ve worked together, but Louis knows why. Zayn’s the one who makes the schedule - he’s intentionally scheduling Harry and Louis together, even if means he and Louis never work the same shift together again. 

Expecting Zayn to save him, Louis greets him with a tight hug. He’s excited for the incoming change of topic. Instead, Zayn disappoints him.

“Are you guys talking about Harry again? Fill me in.”

 

The next day at work finds Louis being shoved into the office with Harry, who looks just as confused as Louis feels. The door closes loudly behind them. Realistically, the door locks from the inside so they could just open it and leave, but maybe this is the perfect opportunity for them to finally  _ actually _ talk. 

“Harry, we need to talk,” Louis says, pushing Harry towards the only chair in the room. He doesn’t want to have to be looking up the entire time they’re talking. Harry sits easily, the swivel chair scooting slightly as he plops down. He looks up, eyes expectant as he waits for Louis to continue.

Sighing, Louis leans against the desk with his hip and says, “I’m not sure what your idea of dating includes, but this isn’t working out.”

“Um,” Harry says, but Louis shushes him.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have started like that. Hold on, let me restart.” Louis takes a deep breath. “We agreed to start going on dates, and they’ve been fun, yes, but literally nothing has changed. Like, that’s cool because you want the people you, like, date to be your friend, but. This feels like nothing more than a glorified friendship. I’m feeling very in love and I don’t feel like you feel the same way. Does that make sense?”

Harry blinks slowly, obviously processing all the thoughts just thrown at him. He stands, cross the room to where Louis is still leaning against the desk. Crowding into his space, Harry says, “I love you, too. I’m like crazy full of love for you. At any given moment, you’re what I’m thinking about. I see things and they remind me of you. If I find something funny, I immediately need to send it to you. You’re my best friend, and I’m in love with you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Harry says back. “Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t ever ask,” Louis says honestly. Harry doesn’t bother with a response, just closes the distance between them and presses their lips together. He does it softly, lips barely parted with no urgency behind it. When they pull away, Louis’ cheeks have turned red and Harry’s lips have somehow turned more pink, he asks, “What took you so long?”

“Okay, this might sound dumb and lame, but I was waiting on you,” Harry admits. “Like, you have so much going on, with your life and you anxiety, and I didn’t want to add to that. I didn’t want to make it worse somehow. So I just waited for you to come to me and be like, ‘I can handle this.’”

“I can definitely handle this,” Louis says. His heart soars for this man. He’s so kind and thoughtful and caring and everything Louis never thought he deserved but is somehow getting. Harry is standing in front of him, kissing him, and openly admitting his feelings. Months ago, Louis would have been bolting, but he stands firmly in place and repeats, “I can handle this.”

Harry’s face breaks into a wide smile and he leans in to press another kiss to Louis’ lips. This one has more heat behind it, their mouths open wider and tongues moving against each other. When they break apart again, they’re panting and Louis’ got his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair.

“Niall was right, my life is a bad romance movie,” Louis says, leaning his forehead against Harry’s. 

“Full of clichés,” Harry agrees. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“I’m starting to think it’s not.”

**Author's Note:**

> [be my friend or something](http://microlouis.tumblr.com/)   
>  [fic post!](http://microlouis.tumblr.com/post/183727770660/fall-in-love-with-the-moon-and-everything)


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